


Vengeance is like fire

by Thei



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt, Threats, Violence, dealing with brainwashing (kind of), mentions canon character's death (kind of), spoilers for legends of tomorrow 1x09, time travels fucks you up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-13 10:43:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7973905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thei/pseuds/Thei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Chronos <i>had</i> gone back to Central City for Lisa, in order to hurt Len?</p><p>Changing the plot of 1x09 (so major spoilers for that episode, naturally).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hufflepirate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflepirate/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Memories Like Snapshots](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6519025) by [hufflepirate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflepirate/pseuds/hufflepirate). 



He is standing with his back to his captive, who is sitting on the floor, cuffed to the railing. Leonard Snart, captured from the Waverider.

Snart, who hasn’t stopped discreetly glancing around to take in every detail of his surroundings since he was brought here. _How he must wonder._ But Snart’s voice, when he speaks, does not indicate that he’s anything but mildly irritated.

”So … what’s so special about me? I mean, aside from my sparkling personality. Back on the Waverider, you could have taken your boy Rip, but you took me instead. Why?”

A pause.

”Hey, if you’re gonna kill me, you could at least tell me what’s going on.”

He remembers now; Snart never enjoyed not knowing. He considers leaving him in the dark for a while longer, just for the discomfort, but decides against it. The reveal is long overdue. He slowly turns around.

”You should have figured it out by now.”

He removes his helmet and turns to meet Snart’s eyes for the first time in an eternity. The look on Snart’s face is everything he’s wanted and wished for, all this time. There’s shock, disbelief, confusion … and even a hint of fear. At that, he takes a few steps forward, helmet in hand.

”After all …”

He kneels so that he’s level with Snart; he remembers how to read this man, and he’s waited for this moment for too long for him to miss even the slightest twitch of an eye.

”… I am supposed to be the dumb one.”

Snart is speechless for a glorious moment. If he was still the man he’d been, he would have been proud, because he remembers Snart as a man who always had a quip or a comeback. Now, though, Snart seems to be struggling to even get one word out:

”How?”

It’s been lifetimes since he saw this face, and he revels in the insecurity he sees there. He remembers that uncertainty was never Snart’s favorite emotion, and predictably, in the next breath, Snart falls back on anger:

“I think I deserve to know what the hell is going on here!” He hides his fear under a mask of fury, rattles his cuffs, and _oh how helpless he must feel if_ Captain Cold _is driven to such an outburst_.

His captive’s violent reaction soothes something in him. There is a warm feeling in his chest, like a flame. His voice though, when he replies, is cold:

”You deserve nothing.”

Snart’s reply is instantaneous:

”Says the man who sold us out to the pirates! When I dropped you off in that forest –“

_The forest. The forest where he was abandoned, where he was betrayed and left to die. Where he was found and taken. Where he lost his partner, his life, his very self. **The forest**. How _ dare _he bring up the forest?_

“- I _meant_ to kill you, that _was_ the plan.”

Snart is snarling at him, like he should be grateful for what happened. The flame within him is flaring up, and as a result his voice becomes even colder.

”You should have stuck with the plan and done me a favor.”

Apparently he’s not the only one who remembers how to read the other. Snart hears something he’s not saying, and his face morphs into something unsure for a fraction of a second. There is a pleading look in his eyes, now, peeking out behind the mask of fury.

”I may not have trusted you on the ship with the team, but I always, _always_ , was coming back for you!”

He’s yelling now, out of frustration or desperation or fear; willing him to believe him. It does not work.

”Seems like one of us lost track of time.”

Snart’s face crumples and his voice softens –

”Wh–, how long did you –”

– and he visibly flinches _(beautiful)_ when he is interrupted:

”By the time they found me, I’d nearly lost my mind!”

His voice is loud, and Snart bites down but doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move his eyes away from his; like a child, scolded by an angry parent. Or, maybe, like a child, not daring to speak for fear of the other lashing out. Helpless, waiting for judgement. The thought cools him down, and he continues in a calmer voice:

“I was so weak, I was strangling rats to survive.”

There is a suspicious glint in Snart’s eyes now, and he’s leaning back. Cautious. Wary. Like he knows, but doesn’t want to know. He asks, anyway:

”When _who_ found you?”

”The Time Masters.”

He looks down. Remembers. Stands up and turns his back as he continues:

“They took me to a place called the Vanishing Point. Time doesn’t exist there, the way it does on Earth. I’ve spent lifetimes being restored by them. Training by them. Fighting by them. Being reborn.”

He doesn’t recall all of it. He _knows_ of the pain, but he doesn’t remember it. What he does remember is the relief when the pain stopped. How broken he was, and how they put him together again, made him whole. Gave him a purpose. He remembers the man he was before, but it was a disaster of a man. He is better now. Stronger.

He also remembers fragments of people he used to know. Flashes of memories that he can’t make sense of. But it doesn’t matter now. The memories of the people on the Waverider are clearer, as they relate to his mission. The memories of Leonard Snart are sharp as ice shards. He can’t recall the feeling of the partnership they once shared, but he knows it was there – and he knows he was betrayed. He knows that everything that’s happened to him, everything that he is now, is because of the man in front of him. Leonard Snart.

A drawl from behind makes him focus:

”And when exactly did your new friends give you the … lobotomy?”

He looks at his captive, who is finally at his mercy. Snart is trying to collect himself, tries to go back to his Captain Cold persona, but he doesn’t manage it completely; there is a waver in his voice, a stiffness to his shoulders.

”You think I was hunting you and your friends because the Time Masters made me?”

A couple of steps, and he’s in front of his prisoner again. This time, he stays standing; towering over Snart, because he wants him to understand. Everything that’s happened, and will happen, is and will be because of _him_.

“They barely had to ask.”

Snart seems to be trying to get a grip of himself and the whole situation, his eyes narrowing when he asks:

“Then why did you just take me? Rip was right there – if you’re going after all of us, why did you just take _me_?”

The old him would have smiled at this question; grinned, even. He doesn’t, of course. He delivers his answer in a low voice:

“It will be easier to capture them if they are together. Let them find each other first, then I’ll find them. And I _will_ find them. After all, I have all the time in the world.”

He takes one step forward, and enjoys that Snart has to lean back a little to look at him.

“As for you … The Time Masters can be generous. I would have gone after the Waverider no matter what, but they gave me some extra motivation.”

He pauses, gives Snart a chance to realize the truth.

“They promised me _you_.”

He lets that sink in for a moment, before he walks back towards the controls. Snart is silent for a moment – probably trying to collect himself. Then:

”Look, if you’re gonna kill me, just do it already.”

He does not turn around as he speaks:

”I’m not gonna kill you.”

The _yet_ is silent.

“I’m gonna take a trip back to Central City and visit your baby sister.”

A swipe of his finger, and a picture of Lisa Snart is projected onto the screens, so that Snart can’t help but see it. He can imagine Snart stiffening, suddenly alert behind him, and he continues:

“The beautiful thing about time travel is I get to kill her more than once.”

He turns around. Snart is crumbling in front of him, and the flame inside him grows into a wildfire, and is sputtering hate and rage, because this is the man who betrayed him and he wants him to _hurt_ , and he knows that there is no better way to hurt him than to hurt her.

“I can kill Lisa in front of you, go back in time, kill her in front of you again –“

A warning.

“– and again –“

A threat.

“– and again.”

A promise.

Snart rattles his cuffs and his face is a mask of absolute fury, but before he’s able to get a word out, he is interrupted, and in that moment, the fury gives way to desperation for a fraction of a second, before his mask slips back in place.

_”Sir, several anomalies in the timeline suggests that the Waverider has touched down in the Nanda Parbat.”_

”They are finding their way back to each other. Good. Let's leave them to it. It gives us the time we need.”

He glances at Snart, who hasn’t yet realized the implications of that statement.

“Chart a course to Central City, 2016!”

At that, Snart’s head snaps up with worry.

“I used to think that the most beautiful thing on earth was fire. Now I know it’s vengeance.”

Because vengeance is fire, fire is vengeance, and they’re both beautiful burning infernos to lose oneself in.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chronos locates Lisa Snart.

”Would you mind loosening these up a little bit before you leave?”

A drawl, but he recognizes it for what it is: a last desperate attempt to keep him from going after Lisa Snart. Snart continues, as if he isn’t freaking out:

“Just out of curiosity, when you’ve killed me and caught up to the Waverider, what do you think your new masters are gonna do with you once you’ve delivered the team up to them? I don’t expect there’s a pension plan for old bounty hunters.”

As if that matters; _revenge_ is all that matters. Snart is grasping at straws.

“Once they get what they want from you, they’re gonna toss you aside.”

Wrong thing to say.

”Like you tossed me aside?”

The comment makes him remember waking up in the forest, alone, a long time ago. Makes him remember the anger and, after some time, the sharp pains of abandonment when he realized no one was coming back for him. The memory ignites the fire in him, again, the fire that reminds him a little of the man he used to be; a man who lived with a flaming inferno inside of him for so long. The fire is anger and a thirst for revenge. Snart is unaware of it, though, as he makes a last effort to get through to him:

”You and I both made choices that led us to this moment. What matters, Mick, is your next move. And I’m willing to bet that some little piece of the old you is in that armor somewhere.”

 _Mick._ That was his name. He hears it, from his old partner’s lips, and it’s a _familiar_ word that stirs something deep within. But he shakes it off, because whoever Mick was, is not the man he is today.

”No. You’re wrong.”

He is Chronos, and he revels in the hopelessness on Snart’s face as he leaves him on the ship.

***

The objective is to find Lisa Snart and bring her back to the ship, with minimal disturbance to the timeline. This is easier to accomplish if he blends in, so he forgoes the armor and chooses to wear time-typical clothing. He also brings some slightly enhanced time-typical weaponry.

Locating Lisa Snart is not hard, with all the technology that he has access to. Everyone has cell phones, and they are too easy to track in this time. It is only a few days after Snart left with the Waverider here, after all, and she has had no reason to change her phone yet.

She is at a bar, and he walks in without hesitation. No one tries to stop him. It is crowded, and he keeps to the shadows. No one bothers him. Some people look at him, but they are quick to look away when he meets their eyes.

He suddenly remembers the same thing happening in the other life – so long ago, but here, in this time, maybe only weeks. Days.

Lisa Snart is at the pool tables in the back. There are four other people with her, and two more sitting at a nearby table, watching. He will not be able to get to her at the moment, so he sits down at the closest table and grabs a glass.

The glass belongs to someone, but that person swallows their protests and leaves when he levels them with a blank look.

He will watch her from here, wait until she leaves, and then grab her. He will take her to the ship, kicking and screaming, and he will thoroughly enjoy Snart’s reaction. Perhaps he will beg _(like he begged the Time Masters in the beginning)_. Perhaps he will break _(like he broke)_. Perhaps he will promise to do anything, _anything_ , to make it stop, _just stop –_

He frowns. Takes a gulp of his beer.

Snart will pay. Again and again and again.

He turns his attention back to Snart’s sister; she is one of the players, and she seems to be winning. She reminds him of Snart; they have the same eyes, the same smirk, and they both move like water.

Except, no. Snart _now_ is captured on his ship. His eyes are full of anger and worry, he is not smirking, and his limited movements are stiff and jerky. So Lisa Snart reminds him of the Snart he _used_ to know, not the one he has in his possession now.

He takes another swing of his beer.

There are differences, too. Snart’s sister has a sweet and coy look on her face when she turns towards the man she is playing. Sweet like poisoned honey. The man eats it up, leans forward and tries to touch. Lisa Snart evades, with a teasing smile and a comment too low to hear. The man grins and turns to the game; apparently it’s his turn again.

Lisa Snart will chew that man up, and spit him out.

He frowns again as that thought enters his mind. Lifts the glass to his lips again. Takes the time to have a discreet look around the place.

The bar is dark, it’s loud, it’s run-down and filthy. So are the patrons. It makes him uncomfortable, in how _comfortable_ he feels here.

It is to be expected, though. The man he once was, used to go to many places like this one. Maybe even this exact one. He doesn’t remember it, but. There is a faint sense of … Something.

He downs his drink. This will not do. Too many distractions.

He gets up and walks out. There is only one entrance, after all, and if by any chance she decides to leave via the back door, he can easily find her again. It makes sense to wait outside, where there are less people to notice him.

He places himself on the opposite end of the street, by the wall. The streetlight is broken, so he is not easily seen. There is a coolness to the night air that calms him; empties his mind. He regains his focus.

Twenty-seven minutes have passed when a man and a woman stumbles out and walks a few steps to the left. They are young, mid-twenties. And drunk. The man is fumbling with something, and the woman looks up and notices that they are not alone. She frowns a little and says something quiet to her companion, whose head snaps up.

He ignores them as they keep speaking in hushed voices. They are not important to his mission, and they are not a threat at this time.

The man leers at him and says something to the woman, then stumbles out into the road and towards him. The woman shakes her head and reaches out to stop him, but without result.

“Hey!”

Ignoring them now could be causing more noise, which could be drawing attention to himself, which is not ideal. Shooting them would mean having to get rid of the bodies in a hurry, which is also not ideal. So he meets the other man’s eyes. The man grins wider.

“You’re Rory, right? Mick Rory?”

 _That name again._ It sends a jolt of unwanted recognition down his spine, and his glare hardens. The man snickers and turns around to give the woman a drunken thumbs-up, before he steadies himself and turn back. He has a cigarette in his hand that he’s waving around when he moves.

“I’ve heard ‘bout you, man. Seen you around, too.”

The guy snickers again, unaware that the man he’s talking to is calmly considering killing him.

“My girl o’er there wanted to go out and smoke, right? So we went out! An’ here we are. An’ here _you_ are, which is like, hah, _destiny_ or somethin’, man! ‘Cause we didn’ bring a match, and then my girl saw _you_ , so …”

The woman’s voice is almost pleading when she says: “Baby, come on, let’s go …”

But the man waves his hand at her and tries to focus his eyes. Pauses, as if waiting to deliver the punchline to a joke. Then he holds out his cigarette.

“Got a _light_ , Rory?”

And then the guy promptly dissolves into giggles.

He has his hand around the other’s throat and is pushing him up against the wall (feet off the ground) in a blink of an eye. The man is clawing at his hand and trying to get free, the woman has run up to them and is pulling at one of his arms _(brave lady)_ , but it has no effect on him.

There is a _light_ , all right; a fire within him, and it is tempting, _so tempting_ , to let it free, just to see what kind of destruction it would cause.

The woman’s pleading voice (“Let him go! Please, just let him go, we’ll leave, stop it!”) and the sound of the man’s choking registers with him, and he clenches his jaw. Has to make a conscious effort to drop the man, who’s falling like a puppet with its strings cut. The woman dives for him and puts herself between the two _(very brave lady)_ and glances up.

He stares at her. And growls:

“Leave.”

Neither of the two says anything; she just hurries to pick her friend up and drag him off down the street.

With them gone, the street is empty and quiet again, but he feels unsettled. This is not a good time to be in, for him, considering who he once was. But he will have to endure, because he _will_ bring Lisa Snart to the ship, and he _will_ show Leonard Snart just what happens when you betray him.

The fire inside doesn’t die down this time, but keeps burning. He concentrates on that flame, and stays where he is; ignoring the other people who passes him, or enter or exit the bar.

Fifty-two minutes later, Lisa Snart emerges. She is alone.

_Perfect._

She walks to a side street, where her motorcycle is parked. He follows her without making a sound.

She stands with her back to him, has the helmet in her hands and is about to put it on, when he takes the last few steps towards her. The plan had been to let her see him before he took her; to sow the seed of fear in her so that she would be sufficiently confused and terrified when she is presented to her brother … but getting close, he can hear her humming to herself, and that – for some reason – makes him change his mind. He raises his hand, which is holding the gun. Lisa Snart stiffens at the movement behind her, and would probably have turned around, if he hadn’t hit her in the back of the head before she had the chance.

She goes down without a sound, and he watches her fall. Then he kneels by her unmoving body and injects her with something that should keep her unconscious for some time (which had originally been a backup plan). He picks her up with ease. Throws her over his shoulder. Starts walking.

He doesn’t look at her face once.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No un-named characters in this story are important for the plot. They're just ... there. As people tend to be.
> 
> (Also, it's probably not a good idea to walk up to a known violent arsonist and ask for a light, even as a joke.)


	3. Chapter Three

Snart was always a slippery bastard, he thinks when he returns to the ship and finds that his captive has managed to move along the railing and is currently reaching out with his foot to get at his cold gun. A little longer, and Snart might have actually gotten loose somehow. Lesson learned; he will not leave him unsupervised again.

Snart’s eyes widen when he sees his captor walking towards him, but he is not looking at Chronos; his focus is on the body he is carrying.

He uses Snart’s distraction to stomp down, hard, on the man’s ankle. Snart hisses and pulls his leg closer to his body, grasps at his ankle with one hand, but does not look away from his sister.

Chronos ignores him, and continues around the corner. He deposits Lisa Snart’s unconscious body on the floor on the bridge, face turned away, and turns around. Snart is standing up, and slowly limping back towards them.

“You don’t want to do this, Mick.”

He doesn’t even correct Snart about the name, because Snart sounds guarded and that’s exactly what he should be. His lips pull up into something like a grin.

“Oh but I _do_.”

He leans down and, without taking his eyes away from Snart, turns Lisa’s face towards her brother, to let him see that it’s really her. Snart has reached the end of the railings and can’t get closer, but he still makes a move forward, before the cuffs stop him. There is open _despair_ on his face, and Chronos revels in it. He reaches down and strokes her hair out of her face, still without taking his eyes off Snart. Who says, quietly:

“Don’t touch her.” He probably meant to sound threatening, but he fails miserably and instead he sounds pleading.

In answer, Chronos moves his hand to her throat, squeezing gently. A threat. Snart yanks at his cuffs and almost loses his balance when he puts his injured foot down.

“Don’t do this. The Mick I knew wouldn’t do thi-“

“He is dead!” he booms, standing up abruptly. Snart flinches. “You betrayed him, and left him behind.”

“I was coming back for you, I was _going to_ come back!”

“You never came. The Mick you knew is dead because of you, and soon … soon _she’ll_ be dead because of you, too.”

“She has nothing to do with this”, Snart tries. “It’s me you want.”

True, but he doesn’t only want to hurt Snart, he wants to _wound_ him. Crush his hope and _end_ him, make him feel all the things _he’d_ felt, when he was left for dead. Make him suffer like _he_ had suffered, before he was reborn into what he is today. His need for vengeance is so strong that he can barely contain it, and he is _so close_ now. The flame of anger inside him has grown into a blaze, and he has waited _years_ for this, for the opportunity to absolutely _destroy_ Snart. And now, the moment has come. He knows how to do it. He knows just which buttons to push.

“I do want you.” He nods. “But I will get to you through _her_.”

He gestures at Lisa Snart, still unmoving at his feet.

“I will murder her, and I will make you watch as I do it. Again and again.” (Knife _in_.)

“And I will enjoy the look on your face every time she dies because you _couldn’t save her_.” (And _twist_.)

The despair on Snart’s face turns into _agony_ , and it’s magnificent and almost distracting. He makes himself focus by nudging Lisa Snart with his boot, and watching Snart’s terrified eyes snap up to his.

“Now, how will I kill her?”

He takes a step over her so that he’s standing between her and Snart, and he holds Snart’s gaze when he speaks, because Snart is hurting and afraid, and Chronos needs to see it, needs to watch him as he breaks.

“I could shoot her. In the head, maybe. Or in the stomach, and let her bleed out right here on the floor. But that’s no fun when she’s not awake to suffer through it, is it?”

Snart resolutely looks away, and he is clenching his jaw so hard it looks like it hurts. _Good._

“I could use your cold gun on her. Freeze her, and lock you in a room with her frozen body until it thaws. Or I could stab her. Then again, where’s the fun in that when she’s not aware of it?”

Snart is looking at the floor now, so Chronos moves forward and grabs his jaw in his hand and forces him to look up. When he speaks again, it’s with a low voice:

“I could burn her. She doesn’t have to be awake for that. Just douse her with gasoline and light a match. Wouldn’t that be fitting, _Len_?”

Snart flinches, and there are actual tears in his eyes at this point. It’s everything Chronos has ever wanted and more, so he doesn’t stop.

“I could beat her to death with my own two hands. I could electrocute her, or poison her. Or I could choke her, so easily, right now.”

He pushes Snart’s head into the wall viciously and walks back to Lisa Snart. Standing over her, he turns back to Snart and shrugs.

“Choices, choices. Good thing we don’t have to choose just _one_ option. We will have the chance to explore all of them, after all.”

At this, Snart’s face crumbles _(beautiful!)_ , and he chokes out:

“Mick, _please_ …”

One little word; so simple, and yet what he’s been waiting for for so long. It calms him a little, and he smiles. “Already begging, Snart? We haven’t even started yet.”

“You want me to beg, Mick, is that it?” There is fire in Snart’s eyes now, along with a desperation that he has no memory of ever having seen there before. “Because I’ll do that.”

He falls to his knees on the floor, and it stuns Chronos for a moment, because this wasn’t how he expected it to go. Leonard Snart was always too proud to beg. Apparantly not, though:

“You know me, Mick, better than anyone else. You know what Lisa means to me. I’ll do _anything_ you want me to if you just leave her alone, and you know it. I’ll beg. I _am_ begging you, Mick, _please_ , what else do you want from me?”

“I want you to suffer!”

“Mission accomplished, then!” Snart snarls, angrily, although the look on his face hints at him trying not to cry.

It makes a long-lost memory emerge in Chronos’ brain; fragments of a deserted street at night, and bruises on a younger Len’s face, and frustration and anger but no tears, never any tears, and a punch to a brick wall that made knuckles bleed. The feeling associated with the memory is _rage_ , but not towards Len. _Someone else._ It is more than just a feeling of recognition; it’s a memory of something real, something _that has happened_ (something from _before_ , something _they didn’t take_ ), and he is so lost in trying to chase the memory that he almost misses Snart when he continues:

“I’ve only ever really cared about two people in my life, and they’re both in this room. And now one of them wants to kill the other.”

He feels off-kilter, and it is not pleasant. He shakes his head and forces himself to focus. Snart is lying, of course. If he’d cared, he’d have come back. Snart must be lying. And even if he isn’t … Len always was a manipulative bastard; a smooth talker who could wrap anyone around his little finger. Even if by some off-chance he actually cared, that doesn’t change things. Except that it makes Chronos’ revenge sweeter. Because he had cared about this man, once, and he’d been betrayed. Only fair to make him go through the same thing.

He has moved so he’s in front of Snart again, looking down at his kneeling form. Snart’s voice is soft when he says:

“You were my best friend, _my partner_ , for years. You saved me when we were young, several times in fact, and in doing so you saved Lisa as well. And now you want to hurt her, to get to me.”

He makes a face as if the words he just said doesn’t make sense, then he takes a breath to continue (and Chronos doesn’t interrupt him, even though he’s not sure he wants to hear this; not sure that what he’s about to hear won’t bring up more confusing memories):

“I messed up, real bad, and I’m sorry about that, Mick. If you want to punish me for that, that’s your right. But punish _me_. _I_ was the one who did wrong by you. _I_ was the one who left you there. Not her.”

Chronos stands frozen, because on the one hand, this is what he’s wanted for so long; Snart reduced to a pleading mess, kneeling in front of him with tears in his eyes and admitting he was wrong. On the other hand … this feels _wrong_ , somehow. It feels like a distant memory, or a dream; not _real_ , and it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, like bile and ashes.

Snart looks up to meet his eyes, and this is all _Len_ , there’s not a trace of the Captain Cold persona left when he whispers:

“So do whatever you want to _me_ , Mick. But don’t hurt her. For god’s sake, you basically helped me raise her.”

_Shut up!_ Without conscious thought, he punches Len – no, _Snart_ – in the mouth, and his head snaps to the side. But it only shuts him up for a few seconds before he continues:

“You taught her how to drive when she was fifteen. Said it was so you wouldn’t have to drive her places, but really, you could never say no to –”

He punches him again, harder, and this time Len – Snart – takes longer to compose himself. He’s hanging his head off to the side and blinking fast a couple of times, but he keeps talking:

“She was only a little girl when she met you for the first time, and she was scared of you at first. Would have been strange if she hadn’t been, to be honest, after what she’d … But you never once gave her a reason to fear you, Mick. Never _once_.”

He looks up, and the skin around his eye is red and his lip has already started swelling, but there is a challenge to his posture that makes even more memories flash in front of Chronos’ eyes, and this isn’t how things were supposed to go, this is not –

No. _No_ , he will not be distracted. What’s important is his revenge. That is what's kept him going for all this time, the only mission amongst all the ones he’s been sent on that has ever mattered. This is the reason why he survived, this is his _purpose_!

He wills the fire inside him to burn brighter, and stalks back to Lisa, ignoring Len’s … _Snart’s_! … voice. All he wants to do is _hurt_ someone, and it has to be Lisa because that will hurt Len – dammit, _Snart!_ – because that is the plan. He brings out his gun and aims at her head and he _looks right at her_ for the first time since the bar, and the memories that suddenly assault him gives him vertigo.

He _did_ teach her how to drive (because she and Len would always get into a fight when Len was the one who tried to teach her). He also taught her how to start and put out any kind of fire, how to mend smaller tears in her clothes, and how to eat waffles (with ice-cream and sprinkles). He remembers her smiling as she seated herself between Mick and Len in a sofa in front of a table full of take-out containers, he remembers her wiping away angry tears when he caught her after her first boyfriend broke up with her, and he remembers her dancing and singing along to a song playing on the radio in a kitchen with light yellow walls. 

Looking down at her unconscious form now, he remembers another time when he looked down at her while she wasn’t awake; but she was younger then, and in a hospital bed, and Len was sitting in a chair beside her. He remembers the feeling of _wrong_ when he saw her like that, because Lisa – little Lisa – was not supposed to get hurt. No one hurts her.

This is _Lisa_. He can’t kill her.

The realization is sudden, and it makes him waver where he stands. There is anger and hurt and confusion, because he was robbed of everything and the only thing that kept him going was the promise of revenge, but now he’s robbed of even that – there’s still the fire burning inside of him and he needs to let it burn, needs to hurt someone, needs to _destroy_ something, but he _can’t hurt her_. He can’t.

He is suddenly aware that Len is still talking, still pleading, and he focuses on that.

In a second, he’s in front of his former partner and holds him by his jacket. Len looks surprised, but there is something akin to relief in his eyes. He doesn’t want to see it, so he punches him, hard. Doesn’t give him the chance to look up again before he follows up with another punch. Then another. Another.

He hits him in the face, stomach, side of the head, back – anywhere he can get at, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he needs to make someone hurt as much as _he_ was hurt, because if he doesn’t he will explode or do something he knows he can’t do. So he hits and he hits and he _doesn’t think_ , and he doesn’t even notice that he’s roaring until he runs out of air. He takes a deep breath and raises his arm for another punch –

– but Len’s lying on the floor now, face a bloody mess, and he’s not lifting a finger to protect himself and _he’s looking right at him_ and –

A part of him wants to continue beating Snart until he’s a bloody smear on the floor, because he’s so _angry_ , still, but another part of him suddenly remembers wanting to kill _someone else_ , at times; someone who had _dared_ hurt Len, and that part of him wants to protect the man he’s currently beating. He can’t handle the conflicting emotions (it’s been so long since he felt any other emotion than hate), so he screams, smashes his hand into the wall (a punch that makes his knuckles bleed), and throws himself backwards. Backs away until his back hits the wall across the corridor, and slides down to the floor.

_Shit.  
_


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If vengeance is like fire, then fire is like vengeance; when they’ve burned out, they leave behind a black dead mess.

He is panting, draws in deep lungfuls of air and he finds himself shaking. He is distantly aware of that his knuckles hurt, and there’s an echo of that feeling inside his chest as well. So many things are going through his mind, but he can’t form a coherent thought. He’s staring at a piece of the wall, but is acutely aware of both the Snarts on the edges of his vision: Lisa is still lying unmoving where he left her, and Len … doesn’t move, either, but he’s at least still conscious. He glances over at him.

Len is a mess. He is lying on his back; bruised and bloody and still handcuffed to the railing. His jacket is halfway down one of his arms, his shirt is twisted around his torso and one leg is bent under him. It looks uncomfortable, but he doesn’t move. His breathing is shallow and he is keeping an eye (already starting to swell shut) on Mick. _Chronos._ Whoever he is, or was, _dammit_.

A part of him sees his former partner on the floor and wants to finish the job. Another part of him wants to kill whoever did this (which, incidentally, is _him_ ; proven by his bloody knuckles). Yet another part, a familiar but long-forgotten tiny fragment, just wants to light something on fire.

Mick/Chronos growls, because _damn it all to hell what the fuck even is this shit_ , and Len flinches.

It makes something in him clench uncomfortably, and he looks away. He makes the mistake of turning towards Lisa, and the same conflicting emotions assaults him from looking at her: he wants to _hurt_ her, but he doesn’t really want to hurt her; he wants her to be _safe_. All these contradictory thoughts are pushed to the side by a strong and sudden need to just _get away_. Not flee, per se, just … get out of there. The urge is so strong that he stands up immediately (Len doesn’t flinch, but seem to be holding his breath).

There’s a thousand other things he should be doing, but it will have to wait. He needs a moment.

Actually, there’s one thing that he can do right now.

He moves to pick up Lisa, and that gets the attention of Len on the floor; he tries to sit up, but makes a face and falls back with a groan. Instead of sitting up he angles his body to the side and drags himself up with the help of the railing to lean against the wall, in time to turn to Mick/Chronos and croak:

“Please, Mick, no … _please_ …”

He can’t _deal_ with the look in Len’s eyes right now, so he throws Lisa over his shoulder and passes Len without a word – ignores him and carries Lisa down the corridor. The other man’s voice gets more and more frantic, but he continues walking without turning around, because _one thing at the time dammit_. Just before he rounds the corner, though, Len says, pleadingly:

“Don’t hurt her. _Chronos_ , please …”

And _that_ name, from _that_ man … nothing has ever felt so wrong. He manages to walk around the corner before he stumbles, and has to reach out and steady himself against the wall with the hand that is not holding Lisa. There is a buzzing in his ears (that he is almost grateful for, because it drowns out Len’s distressed voice) and memories flashing in front of his eyes, too fast for him to make sense of them, and it’s all a jumbled mess but the _one_ thing he is suddenly sure of –  

–  is that his name is _not_ Chronos.

He takes a deep breath, straightens up, drags a hand over his face and continues walking. Before he exits the ship, he puts on his armor. The helmet, too. He picks up Lisa again, in both his arms so he can see her face, and sends the feed from his helmet to the screens on the bridge. Seeing her should calm Len down.

He is not entirely sure why calming Len down feels so important, but it feels like the right thing to do so he does it, and refuses to think of why.

Then he exits the ship, and carries Lisa into the night.

***

It is late at night, in those hours just before it can be called morning, and there are hardly any people out. He is relieved (and how strange it is to feel relief again), because the armor is not exactly discreet, and carrying around an unconscious woman in his arms … well. A lot could go wrong with this mission, and there is a considerable risk to the timeline.

He finds that he doesn’t give a shit. He keeps to the shadows, though, chooses the roads and alleys with the least lights.

Still, a few people see him; two men making out under a streetlamp (they break apart and stare, but don’t do anything), a man standing at a street corner (he looks up from his phone and narrows his eyes, but slinks into an alleyway without a single word before Mick even gets close enough to see his face) and an old man walking a dog (that man mumbles a sleepy “’evening” at Mick as he passes, and doesn’t even look up). But none of them warrants a death.

He finds himself back at the bar he left a few hours ago, and the side street where Lisa’s motorcycle is still parked. _Good._ She’d be pissed if someone had stolen it.

He gently puts her down on the ground next to her bike, and then stands up and backs away a few steps. She is as unmoving as she’s been since he knocked her out, and he furrows his brows behind his helmet. He knows (remembers?) this part of town; leaving a woman knocked out cold on the ground here is not exactly safe, and … he wants her safe.

So he walks back to her, bends down and injects her with something that should counteract the other injection; something that should wake her up. He then backs away to the nearest street corner and watches her from there. It is a few minutes (during which he pointedly refuses to think of anything at all), before she stirs. A twitch, a low moan, then her hand reach up to cover her eyes. She exhales loudly. Then she touches the back of her head, and curse. Another fifteen seconds later, she’s bracing herself to stand up, and Mick decides that it is time to leave. She’s awake, she’s moving. She is safe.

Walking away, he removes his helmet and breathes in deeply. The night smells a little like garbage and concrete and dust, but it has a cold and crisp quality to it that makes him enjoy it. It feels … familiar. Which, he supposes, it is. He has lived in this city for many years, after all. Although it was a long time ago … or has it really been that long?

The time masters, the Vanishing Point, the ship, the hunt … _Chronos_. It was a life he lived for an eternity, or at least that’s what it had felt like. Now? Every minute he’s here, breathing in the air of Central City, it feels more like a fever dream. An eternity then, an undefinable and fading cloud of sensations now.

The knowledge is still there, of everything he’s been through and everything he’s done. Before, as Chronos, he _knew of_ his previous life as Mick in Central City on Earth but didn’t _remember_ it. Now, he suddenly finds that it’s starting to feel like the other way around.

Time doesn’t exist at the Vanishing Point, not the way it does on Earth, he knows this. And that chair they put him in warps one’s mind so much that any sense of time loses its meaning. An eternity is in a second; a moment in a year. That’s why it’s so easy to travel through time after that; time is no longer a constant. And he’s spent so long going back and to through time since then that he has forgotten how it is supposed to flow. Here, just before dawn in a quiet Central City, time passes like it _should_ , and he can feel his body adjusting to it. Re-adjusting, really. Because this is the time he was born in, this is the time he was supposed to exist in. This is how time should feel.

His mind is a jumbled mess, and he can’t make sense of what is or has been real, so he concentrates on breathing. And each breath helps. So does each familiar road and each building he knows (remembers) having passed many times before.

Everything is fucked up, and he knows that he has to take care of it soon, but for now, he walks slowly through a city he’s known for most of his life, and he breathes in the chilly night air, _remembering_.

***

He takes the long way back to the ship.

***

The sun has risen above the horizon when he finally returns, and when he enters the ship, he finds himself lingering. He removes his armor, because it feels a little like a joke and a lot like a prison, and instead he dons the clothes he wore when he went to apprehend Lisa. He then checks the whereabouts of the Waverider; probably still in Nanda Parbat, which was to be expected. He does a quick system check, just for the hell of it, and then takes another deep breath and walks onto the bridge.

Len is right where he left him, sitting with his back to the wall and his hands around the railing, and he looks just like Mick expected him to look.

Because Mick knows a lot about Leonard Snart, so he knew that if given enough time after seeing that his sister was safe, he would pull himself together and hide behind the cold mask that fitted his alias so well. (That was partly why Mick took so long getting back to the ship, or so he tells himself. To give Len a chance to get a grip.) And the mask is on, just as expected.

But. Mick has also _known_ Leonard Snart for a long time, so he recognizes what’s behind the mask. He sees the redness of his eyes, the tightness of his shoulders, the way every movement is measured. Most people would attribute it to pain, but he knows that Len can take a beating and pretend like nothing’s wrong: this tenseness isn’t _only_ caused by physical pain. This is apprehension, someone not knowing what to expect but preparing for the worst.

His head is turned so he can watch Mick’s feet with the one eye that isn’t swollen shut, but he doesn’t move and he doesn’t speak. He’s waiting.

Mick bites the bullet.

“You saw. Lisa is unhurt.”

Len curls into himself, just a fraction, at the sound of his voice. He’s still not looking up, but he turns his head slightly towards Mick and says:

“I saw her waking up in that alley. I saw you move away. Then the feed was cut off.”

He doesn’t say _You could have done anything to her while the feed was off_ and he doesn’t say _I don’t trust you_ , but he doesn’t have to. Mick hears it anyway. He expected it, though, and prepared for it. He produces a phone and holds it out to Len, who watches him with suspicion. Mick shakes it a little.

“Take it. Call her.”

Len’s good eye narrows, but he slowly reaches out for the phone. He is stopped by the cuffs before he can reach it, and Mick has to take a step closer (and see Len moving back an inch when he moves) to hand it to him. He takes a quick step back and adds, gruffly:

“Don’t say anything.”

Len may or may not have taken that as a threat, but it’s difficult to gauge his reactions under the blood and the swelling and the bruises. He takes the phone nonetheless, and dials a number from memory. He watches Mick the whole time, as if he’s waiting for the punchline of a cruel joke.

None of them makes a sound, which is probably why even Mick can hear the female voice who picks up after a few rings; “Who’s this?”

Len’s entire posture changes in a blink. His whole body shudders, and he squeezes his eyes shut and puts a hand over his mouth. The voice repeats, after a few seconds of silence: “Hello? Who is this?” Len doesn’t move, but he cradles the phone like it’s a lifeline. A second later, the person on the other end hangs up with a muttered “Asshole”, and Len swallows, removes his hand from his mouth and takes a shaky breath. He looks down at the phone (which has a little blood on it now) and holds it out to Mick without looking up. Mick takes it, and says:

“She’s safe.”

Len nods, and seems to be steeling himself for something. With a wince, he’s grabbing the railing and pulling himself up. (Mick wants to help, but there’s still a part of him that bristles at this and wants to beat him down again, so he doesn’t dare move. He’s pretty sure it wouldn’t be appreciated, anyway.) When Len is standing up, hunched in on himself and all his weight on his uninjured foot, he turns to Mick and looks him straight in the eye, and says, with a hint of uncertainty in his voice:

“And what can I do to keep it that way?”

And that is like a punch to the gut. Mick knew – hell, _Chronos_ knew – that Len would do anything to protect his sister, but it’s just so _wrong_ to see him like this; beaten and weak and _still_ doing whatever he can to keep her safe, no matter what it might mean for himself. Especially since Mick knows, he fucking _knows_ , that this is what most of Len’s life has been like. And it makes Mick so angry (but anger is still associated mostly with abandonment and wanting to harm Len, so the anger quickly turns into fear that he’ll actually do something to hurt him even more, and he doesn’t deal with fear very well), so he growls in frustration and punches the wall next to Len’s head before he can stop himself.

Len flinches, but squares his shoulders and says:

 “Only death would have kept me from coming back for you, Mick. So kill me.”

The words rush out of him, as if they’ve been rehearsed, and when he’s said them he straightens up somewhat and … waits.

And it dawns on Mick, suddenly, that there could have been a reason why Len didn’t come back for him. As Chronos, he wanted to kill Len, and would have, too, if … if things hadn’t changed like they did. Hell, a part of him is still Chronos so they’re not fully in the clear yet, but … He won’t kill him. Probably. And if he doesn’t kill Len, and Len _still_ didn’t come back for him (and he _didn’t_ ) … this is why. Mick threatened Lisa, and that’s just a line that one does not cross. Len wouldn’t have come back for him, not after this, because this happened before Len got the chance to go back and undo it. Mick (as Chronos) going after him and his sister? That’s a worse betrayal of trust than anything that Len could ever do to him. No wonder Len never came back. Mick ruined it before he had a chance.

Still, Len is standing stock still in front of him, tense but determined, and is awaiting his own death at the hands of his oldest friend. And why? To protect his sister? To somehow save the crew of the Waverider? Out of some weird sense of obligation because he felt he’d deserted Mick? None of those reasons are good enough to give up on his own life. Len is _such_ an –

“Idiot.”

Whatever Len expected, it probably wasn’t that, because he does something with his eyebrows and tilts his head slightly to the side.

“What.”

Mick drags a hand over his face.

“You’re a self-sacrificing idiot.”

He backs up against the wall on the other side of the corridor and watches Len, whose voice trembles when he cautiously says:

“… Mi-Mick?”

And he’s suddenly glad that he has his back to the wall, because his legs are barely supporting him anymore. The broken quality of Len’s voice makes everything around him look blurry, and he blinks to bring the world back into focus. His voice is not any steadier when he replies:

“Yeah, buddy.”

Len puts weight on his injured foot and wobbles, has to steady himself and ends up mirroring Mick with his back to the wall. They look at each other, neither of them speaking for … seconds, minutes, hours – hell, it’s not like Mick is the best at measuring time at the moment.

Len’s watching Mick as if he’s expecting him to explode at any moment, but he is the first to speak (for which Mick is more grateful than he cares to admit):

“You’re … you, again?”

Mick feels like laughing (because he’s not sure what that even means anymore, for him to be “him” again), but he already knows how hollow it’d sound if he did, so he just clears his throat and makes a face.

“More or less.”

Len nods as if that makes sense (it doesn’t, and they both know it).

There are so many things that they should probably talk about, but neither of them has ever been much for talking and _this?_ This is just … too much. Where would they even begin? No, to hell with that. There are other things that needs to be taken care of first. Like:

“You okay?”

Len glares at him from his good eye like Mick’s crazy, which –

“Okay. Point.”

Still. “We should get you looked at.”

He pushes off the wall and approaches Len slowly, hesitantly. When Len doesn’t lean away from him, he reaches out and unlocks the cuffs. They fell to the floor at their feet with a clanking sound, and he drops his hands to his sides and prepares for whatever punch Len is gonna throw (and steels himself for the inevitable urge to hit back, retaliate), but Len doesn’t do anything.

Eventually, Mick nods his head towards the other end of the corridor.

“Come on”, he says and starts walking.

He doesn’t know if turning his back on Len means _I trust you_ or _You’re too weak to be a threat to me_ , and he doesn’t know how Len interprets it, but he fully expects Len to eventually follow him. Which is why it’s a surprise when he rounds the corner alone. He backtracks, a step or two, and looks back. Swears silently to himself, because Len is gripping the railing and limping forward, trying not to walk on the foot that Chronos stomped on before. Of course.

It’s slow going, but he eventually gets to the corner, too. Mick is pretty sure that any attempt he makes at helping will be turned down, but he takes it slow and turns around every once in a while and makes sure that Len is following.

Len is too proud and stubborn for his own good ( _if he’s not begging for his sister’s life_ , his mind unhelpfully adds), and it frustrates him and stirs the flame of anger in him again.

He fears that flame now, for the first time, because it’s dangerous. All his anger has been directed at Len for so long and he’s not sure he can control it. He is suddenly reminded of the first stretch of time in the Time Masters’ hands; he had been _so angry_. At Len, at first, but then at the Time Masters and the whole situation. And they put him in that chair and took all the anger and all the hate inside of him and they _shaped_ it. Made him into a weapon and pointed him in Len’s general direction; certain that he would do anything to get to him. And he almost did.

Might do it, still. There’s a piece of him that is what the Time Masters made him into; that wants to make sure this man, already battered and bruised, never gets up again.

But a look at Len’s face (the fact that it’s still so _familiar_ when he’s this beaten is not something he wants to dwell on) is enough to drown out the traces of Chronos’ voice inside him.

But to be safe, he leaves the bruises on Len’s skin.

The rest of it; the breaks and the sprains and the bleeding and the more serious cuts – they are taken care of as soon as he’s gotten Len in that chair in med bay. He’s backing up against the wall to give the other man some space, and watches some tension bleed out of him at the loss of what was probably some serious aches and pains.

But he leaves the bruises. They remind him of what he’s done. Remind him that for most of his life, he’s wanted to _protect_ this man, not hurt him. And they remind him that Len had been given good reason not to come back for him in the first place.

If Len notices that some of the injuries that could have been taken care of remains, he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead he gingerly puts both of his feet on the floor when it’s over, testing it out, before standing up and looking at Mick.

“What now?”

Oh god, where to begin? If Mick was the man he once was, he’d want to burn something. He feels the echo of it, thinks that maybe that’s exactly what he should be doing, but it’s been lifetimes since he could afford to drop everything for _fire_. So he raises his voice slightly, speaks to the panel on the wall behind Len:

“Set a course for Nanda Parbat.”

_“Yes sir.”_

He turns back to Len:

“I’m bringing you back to the team.”

Len’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t ask, but Mick can see the _Why?_ in how he raises his head just a little.

“You need to warn them. Since I failed to bring you in, the Time Masters are gonna want to bring me in, and this time, they’re not gonna take any chances. They’ll send the hunters after you.”

He doesn’t say _we_ or _us,_ because he hasn’t got the right to. Perhaps he never will again. But this, at least, he can do.

Betrayal and rash actions has led them here, and what they had, what they _were_ , may be something that can never be mended. But he tells himself it doesn’t matter. What _can_ be done, right now, is to return Len to his team. And see where things go from there.

***

Much later on, when he wakes up on the Waverider, and Gideon informs him of what happened (no one else probably dared to), he sits frozen and silent for what may be an eternity. Because it suddenly clicks. Why Len didn’t come back for him in that forest. It wasn’t because the Chronos thing, it wasn’t because he fucked up and threatened Lisa, it wasn’t because he was weak and got himself brainwashed. Len didn’t come back because he _couldn’t_.

Len was right: the only thing stopping him from coming back was death. And the irony doesn’t escape him; the reason why Len never came back for him, was that Len _did_ come back for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this story because I read a couple of lines in hufflepirate's story Memories Like Snapshots, and was suddenly inspired to write.
> 
> This chapter, like the others, is unbeta'ed, so please point out any mistakes so I can correct them.
> 
> Also, sorry about the ending there. :S

**Author's Note:**

> I try, but English isn't my first language. If you spot any mistakes, kindly let me know so I can fix them.
> 
> And I own nothing relating to Legends of Tomorrow (except for a cute Captain Cold Funko Pop thingy).


End file.
